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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28655841">A Little Help From Your Friends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverGrayAndMauve/pseuds/SilverGrayAndMauve'>SilverGrayAndMauve</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Flash (TV 2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Barry has a touch of rejection sensitive dysphoria, Bottle Fic, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, H.R.'s drumsticks, Humor, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates), even Cisco has bad hair days, not a single one of these boys is neurotypical, slight canon divergence due to a misunderstanding about H.R.'s living arrangements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:26:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28655841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverGrayAndMauve/pseuds/SilverGrayAndMauve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry and Cisco (and H.R.) are all set to have a nice, quiet evening at home, but a minor emergency interferes with their plans, and things get hairy. Barry just wants to be helpful. H.R. just wants to eat pizza. Cisco just wants to survive having roommates.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barry Allen &amp; Cisco Ramon, Barry Allen &amp; Cisco Ramon &amp; HR Wells, Barry Allen &amp; Earth-19 Harrison "HR" Wells, Cisco Ramon &amp; Earth-19 Harrison "HR" Wells</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Little Help From Your Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is dedicated to Spencer and Penny, who listened so attentively while I worked out the bugs to this story, to Armando, who got to hear bits and pieces of it during early morning bottle feedings, and last but not least to daftydraw, a good friend, talented writer, and the only human acknowledged in this, without whom I would still be struggling to come up with a title. Thank you all for being this story's first audience.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Movie night at Cisco’s was always better than a movie night anywhere else. Part of the reason for this was because Cisco insisted on having movie-watching snacks, and more than just popcorn; he always made sure to have a diverse assortment of candies and other snack foods on hand, so there was never any worry of getting hungry in the middle of the movie, and having to get up to find something to eat. Another reason was because Cisco </span>
  <em>
    <span>lived</span>
  </em>
  <span> for behind the scenes trivia, and would pepper in fun facts throughout the evening that Barry had never heard before. But perhaps the best part of watching movies with Cisco was the pure enjoyment of witnessing how deeply he got sucked into the worlds onscreen. Scary movies made him jump, and action movies had him cheering the heroes on and heckling the villains as though they could hear him (or vice versa, depending on who was cooler). Comedies became even funnier with the addition of his personal commentary, provoking Barry into quipping back and forth with him until they both made themselves sore from laughing too hard, and poignant scenes were sweeter knowing Cisco was sitting quietly beside him in rapt awe and mouthing the dialogue along with the characters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The film on the agenda for this evening was The Return of the Pink Panther. Upon discovering that the only Pink Panthers Barry had ever seen were the cartoons and the Steve Martin remakes, Cisco had decided that someone (himself) needed to “get Barry cultured” and “introduce him to the O.G.’s”, so they were progressively working their way through the series.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry had been enjoying their drawn-out marathon so far, and he was looking forward to continuing it tonight. After a long day of catching criminals, puzzling over the Alchemy case, and trying to tune out Julian’s passive aggressive refrains, Barry couldn’t think of a better way to wind down than to order some pizzas, pop in a good movie, and kick back and enjoy it all in the company of his best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of soft humming and drumsticks beating on a throw pillow drew Barry out of his thoughts, and he glanced over his shoulder at the person in the living room responsible for the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And H.R., </span>
  </em>
  <span>he amended in his head, turning back to the coffee mug and washrag in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry was washing the dishes from breakfast, which had been sitting out all day because he and his roomies had left in a rush that morning to stop an armed robbery, and this was the first time any of them had been back home since then. He knew he could use his superspeed to get the dishes cleaned faster—for that matter, he could just stick them in the dishwasher instead of doing them by hand—but he had opted to wash them the slow way to kill time. It would be a few minutes before they could get the movie started; right now, Cisco was taking a shower and doing his best Bonnie Tyler impression—or his worst, depending on how you looked at it (it was accurate, at any rate)—and H.R. was lounging across the couch and absently providing accompaniment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The collaborative musical stylings of Cisco and H.R. continued as Barry moved on from the smaller dishes to the frying pan and the coffee pot, and though it didn’t take long before they reached the end of the song, it did not mark the end of Cisco’s repertoire. They were still going strong when Barry finished washing all the dishes and began wiping down the table and countertops, and by that time, he had found his own movements starting to match the rhythm of the music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just finishing up when the singing stopped, and he perked up, knowing this meant that Cisco had finished his shower (although he was a little bummed that it had to happen in the middle of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Philadelphia Freedom</span>
  </em>
  <span>).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry took a good look around the kitchen to see if there was anything else that needed to be done before he left it. Finding nothing, he headed into the living room to join H.R. in waiting for Cisco to come out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he was here, Barry thought, he might as well go ahead and get the movie out, so he crossed the room to the large wardrobe in the corner where Cisco kept his DVDs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon reaching the wardrobe, Barry opened the doors, and he instinctively shifted into superspeed mode as he was promptly assaulted by an avalanche of black, red, and yellow leather.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prior to leaving the apartment this morning, Cisco had been hard at work on what was soon to be his Vibe suit. Now that his gauntlets were finished and fully functional, he had finally commenced work on the rest of the outfit, and much of his spare time lately had been devoted to measuring and cutting and stitching materials together, with painstaking attention to detail. The alert about the robbery earlier had interrupted him in the middle of assembling the sleeves for the jacket, so it, like the breakfast dishes, had been abandoned in a hurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco hadn’t wanted to leave the unfinished suit sitting out in the open while he was away, but he hadn’t had the time to return it to its proper place, so he had stuffed all his fabric and his sewing supplies haphazardly into his movie case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Barry had questioned Cisco’s handling of the materials, knowing how careful he always was not to damage his own creations or works in progress, Cisco had just given him a judgment-filled look and told him that he wouldn’t be making a suit to fight crime in out of anything that couldn’t handle a little rough treatment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry had forgotten all about that conversation and about the temporary placement of the materials and sewing tools until now, but, watching it all tumble out of the wardrobe before him in slow motion, he quickly gathered them in his arms before they could fall to the ground. Once he had caught everything, he resumed moving at his usual speed, and decided to put the unfinished suit back where it belonged, thus getting the living room back in order and saving Cisco the effort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting the wardrobe doors fall shut again, Barry carried all the suit components into the bedroom. Cisco kept most of his inventions, experiments, and other projects at S.T.A.R. Labs, but he had a few things he worked on at home, too, most of which he kept in storage boxes under his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry pulled out the box designated for the Vibe suit, and arranged all the pieces neatly inside it, making sure there were no tangled threads or runaway needles. Once finished, he closed the box and slid it back into its proper place, right between a dusty guitar case and a box of unreasonably priced shoes that Cisco had not worn yet, but had been very excited about when the UPS man had dropped them off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a doorknob turning made Barry look up, and it was then that Cisco emerged from the bathroom dressed in a fresh T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair wrapped up in a towel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whassup?” Cisco greeted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Barry returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking for something?” Cisco asked, noting Barry’s crouched position beside the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Barry said, standing up again. “I’m all done here. I was actually just about to head back into the living room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Cisco said with a nod. Then he clapped his hands together and then pointed finger guns in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m gonna take care of the dishes, and then I’ll be right in there with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already taken care of,” said Barry, much to Cisco’s surprise. “The whole kitchen, too, actually. I just finished tidying it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” said Cisco. “You didn’t have to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed to be Cisco’s catchphrase lately. One thing Barry had learned since moving in with him was that Cisco had learned from the Yesenia Ramon school of how to be a hospitable host, which meant he had a tendency to insist on doing everything himself. The Allens and Joe West, meanwhile, were firm believers in being gracious guests who pulled their own weight and didn’t freeload. It just made sense to Barry to do his share of the chores while he was living here, despite Cisco’s repeated assurances that it wasn’t necessary. If not for H.R.’s chaotic presence keeping both boys on their toes, it would be like living in a Goofy Gophers cartoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry just shrugged. “I needed something to do,” he said simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco cocked his head, pointing thoughtfully at Barry. “Understandable,” he said, and then he nodded toward the door. “Well, shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” said Barry, and he and Cisco headed back into the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your shower?” Barry asked as they walked together. “Did that guy the landlord sent over fix the issue with the water pressure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Cisco. “The pressure is much better now. Although it did blow the showerhead off when I first turned the water on. But not to worry! I made a rig to hold it together, and it stayed on the whole time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry shrugged. “We could just buy a new one,” he suggested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, trust me,” Cisco laughed, “a new showerhead is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> gonna stay on there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry pursed his lips as he puzzled over that remark for a moment. He was about to ask Cisco what he meant, when they turned the corner past the bar and into the living room, and the sight of H.R. still drumming happily on the couch distracted him from his thought process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry smiled in amusement. “I think H.R.’s been enjoying the private concert,” he said, nodding toward him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco missed the gesture, as he was still looking straight ahead, and the light in his eyes flickered for a second before he responded: “Yeah, well,” he said with a flippant wave of his hand, “singing gives me something to occupy my mind. Y’know, keeps me from getting too introspective.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone was light and his smile didn’t fade, but his words brought Barry a twinge of sympathy and guilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>Barry had</span> <span>been through enough loss of his own to understand what kind of thoughts he was trying to keep at bay. Dante’s death had hit Cisco hard, and though he had reached the point of being able to engage with life like normal again, there was still a gray cloud that hung over him, dimming his usual radiance. No doubt his outlook was darker, and the pain of grief at its worst when he was alone.</span></p><p>
  <span>Cisco seemed to be in high spirits tonight, though, so Barry let his instinct to worry fall aside. Tonight was for relaxation and fun, and if Cisco was up for a good time, then so was he.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you order the pizzas yet?” Cisco asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I did,” said Barry. “About thirty minutes ago, which is how long it said it would take for them to get here on the website. But because of how many we ordered, I’m giving it an extra ten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco nodded thoughtfully. “Okay,” he said. “That should give me enough time to dry my hair, and then we can get this party started.”</span>
</p><p><span>“</span><em><span>Leeeeeeeeeeet’s get it started!</span></em><span>”</span> <span>H.R. sang to himself in a croaky, high-pitched voice, drawing Barry and Cisco’s attention.</span></p><p><span>Cisco’s eyes widened as he noticed for the first time what H.R. was doing.</span> <span>“</span><em><span>Hey</span></em><span>,”</span> <span>he said in a voice that was almost parental, pointing a warning finger at him. “Don’t you be putting holes in any of my pillows.”</span></p><p>
  <span>H.R. nodded his head. “Right,” he said, continuing to beat on the pillow. “I won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco lowered his hand and stared at him, blinking slowly. “H.R.,” he said flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” H.R. asked, looking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco continued to stare at him, raising his eyebrows expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You—oh, you want me to stop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Cisco said with a nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. promptly set his drumsticks aside, rambling a mile a minute about what a “good idea” that was, and he fluffed up the pillow for good measure before returning it to its rightful spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” said Cisco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anticipating his next request, H.R. straightened up and scooted over to the end of the couch, making room for the other two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco sat down beside H.R., and Barry joined them, making himself comfortable on Cisco’s other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Barry said, gesturing toward the TV, “does this one have more of Peter Sellers in it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Cisco replied with a nod. “I think you’re really going to like this one. It’s honestly the best one of the entire series, as far as anyone with taste is concerned. And…” Cisco paused for dramatic effect, smiling at Barry, “…it has Christopher Plummer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry gasped happily. “The dad from The Sound of Music!” he exclaimed. “Who does he play?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patience, Iago,” said Cisco. “You will find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this the one where Inspector Clouseau melts off the fake nose with the laughing gas?” H.R. asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that one’s The Pink Panther Strikes Again,” said Cisco. “And tag your spoilers, Barry still hasn’t seen that one yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. gave him a flustered look. “Tag my—how…how do you…what does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco was saved from answering when Barry’s phone buzzed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s that?” H.R. asked as Barry fished his phone out of his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s a status update on the pizzas,” Barry replied, viewing the notification. “It says…” Barry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “They just left. Huh. That was quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco rose to his feet again. “I better get started on my hair then,” he said. “Don’t want to be a stall on pizza and movie night. Let me know when it gets here, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course,” said Barry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without another word, Cisco made his way back to the bathroom, giving Barry’s shoulder an appreciative pat as he passed by him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner had Cisco left the room than H.R. commenced drumming on the arm of the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure he doesn’t want holes in that, either,” said Barry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. gave an exaggerated sigh. “No drumming on the pillows, no drumming on the couch—you’re killing my vibe here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry smirked. “In Cisco’s apartment,” he said, doing a terrible impression of a Russian accent, “you no kill vibe; Vibe kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘You no’—oh!” H.R. pointed a drumstick at Barry and laughed as he got the joke. “That’s a good one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry couldn’t help a little self-satisfied smile that his joke had landed. Not that it took much to make H.R. laugh, but he still counted it as a success.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Cisco’s hair dryer turning on soon filled the apartment, and H.R. began humming to himself again, all the while bouncing one knee up and down repetitively to redirect the excess energy that he perpetually had coursing through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh. So that’s why it annoys Joe when I do that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Barry thought as the whole couch shook. But he didn’t say anything, as he knew how much </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>annoying it was to have to try to sit still when you were waiting on something—especially if you happened to be heavily caffeinated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before the doorbell sounded, announcing the arrival of their pizzas, and Barry stood up and made his way over to the front door to answer it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Barry greeted the delivery driver with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” the driver returned breathlessly. He was carrying five delivery bags, all of which were loaded with as many pizzas as they could fit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry opened the door wider and reached out to lighten his load. “Here, let me help you with that. H.R.—” Barry looked over his shoulder to motion to H.R. to help them, but H.R. was already on his way over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, the three of them carried the bags over to the table, and began removing the pizzas and stacking them neatly on top of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” the driver said when they had finished. Gesturing at the stacks of pizza boxes on the table, he asked jokingly, “These all for you two?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no,” said Barry. “Our other friend is in the bathroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A befuddled look appeared on the driver’s face, and he looked up at Barry, raising one eyebrow curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry just stared back awkwardly for a moment, shifting his eyes from side to side as he tried to determine what had caused the driver to react that way. Then, catching on at last, he added hastily, “And the rest are on their way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The driver raised both eyebrows now, his mouth forming an O. “Well,” he said, moving on from the subject, “I just need you to sign…” he reached into the front flap on one of the delivery bags, and pulled out a pen and a small slip of paper. “…here,” he finished, handing the receipt to Barry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry took the pen and receipt and signed it, including a generous tip for the driver for having to carry all those pizzas to the door, then he handed it back to him with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” the driver said, nodding appreciatively. He gathered up the now-empty delivery bags and made his way to the door. “Enjoy your party,” he called over his shoulder as he walked out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry nodded. “You, too,” he returned automatically. Then he caught himself. “I mean! Uh…Enjoy the…rest of your shift?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The driver just bit his lip, fighting a laugh, and gave Barry a wave before closing the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry cringed a little, judging himself, but he quickly shook it off. No use dwelling on what was just one of many awkward exchanges in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Cisco, pizza’s here,” he called as he headed back into the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t bothered when Cisco didn’t respond; he probably couldn’t hear him over the noise of the hairdryer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry settled down on the couch and took out his phone, scrolling idly through a few different social media apps while he waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take long before the roar of the hairdryer died down, and then for a moment, everything was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um. Barry?” Cisco’s voice called from the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Barry called back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the sound of approaching footfalls from the direction of the bedroom, and when they stopped, he looked up to see Cisco standing in the entryway to the kitchen, one hand on a hairbrush, and the other holding a tangled mass of hair attached to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry did a double-take. “What—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a little help,” said Cisco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started forward again, and Barry stood up and met him in the middle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” Barry said, taking a closer look at the golf-ball-sized mat in Cisco’s hair, “what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” said Cisco. “It must have gotten knotted somehow when it was in the towel, and now I can’t get it straightened out.” He moved the brush experimentally and then winced. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> my brush is stuck. Do you think you can give me a hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course,” said Barry. “Here…” He set his hands on Cisco’s shoulders and guided him back toward the couch, and they both sat down, Cisco angled slightly away from Barry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to delay movie night,” said Cisco. “Hopefully this doesn’t take us </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re in luck,” said Barry. “Iris got her hair into all sorts of messes when she first started styling it herself, and I helped her get it untangled dozens of times. I’m a pro at this by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” said Cisco, “because a pro is what I need. Have at it, Scissorhands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry reached up to take the hairbrush and start on the task, but Cisco, suddenly rethinking his choice of words, held up a hand to signal to him to wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was just the first reference that came to my mind,” Cisco clarified. “Please don’t actually use scissors anywhere near my hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry smiled, fighting a chuckle. “I would never,” he promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Cisco put his hand back down and let Barry commence the detangling process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to know where to begin. With any other sort of tangle, as with headphones or extension cords, Barry would start by locating just one end, and simply pull it backwards through the disarray. But when it came to hair—especially in the state that Cisco’s was in right now—it wasn’t that simple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe if he tried parting the hair just above the matted area, he thought, it would pull some strands loose and make it easier to know what to do from there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry lifted both hands to do just that, but in his concentration to find just the right spot to make the partition, he forgot he was holding the hairbrush, and inadvertently let it go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow!” Cisco exclaimed with a wince as the still-stuck brush dropped and dangled from his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry!” said Barry, hurriedly taking it up again. “Guess I should start by getting this out first, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that would be a good way to go,” said Cisco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Let’s try this again…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abandoning his original plan, Barry turned his focus to getting the brush unstuck. It was luckily a fairly short and easy process, which only served to boost his confidence in his ability to get the rest of the job done with minimal complications.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he had successfully removed the brush from Cisco’s hair, Barry set it to the side, and tried once again to part the hair with his hands. Rather than pulling anything loose, however, all he succeeded in doing was causing the knot to rise a little, eliciting another wince from Cisco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow,” Cisco said again, though with less urgency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Barry said absently, leaning forward to examine the knot more closely. It was even more stubborn than he had anticipated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The longer and the closer that Barry looked at it, the more bewildering he found it to be. The biggest part of the knot was fairly high up, hanging just off the side of Cisco’s head, but some of the finer hairs on the back of his neck were caught up in it as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night,” said Barry. “How did a towel do all of </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco shook his head and threw his hands up in perplexity. “Your guess is as good as mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. suddenly perked up with interest. “What are we looking at?” he asked. He scurried over to Barry’s side and crouched down to look over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good question,” said Barry, more to himself than to H.R.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” H.R. exclaimed. “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>! That’s a mess!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Barry. “It might be easier to figure out what to do if it wasn’t still so damp in the middle. It makes it kinda hard to see what’s connected to what. And then we got this—” he pointed to a cluster of dry strands wrapped around the bigger knot that were more tightly and intricately tangled together— “which is easier to see, at least, but it’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. turned his head to look at Barry. “What’s your plan?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Barry mused, “when you’re dealing with matted hair, the best move is usually to start low and work your way up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree with Barry,” H.R. announced to no one in particular. “I think if we just start low, and then gradually move up higher, it’ll get San Francisco’s hair unmatted faster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco let out a puff of judgment. “Your advice is uncannily spot on, as always,” he said, glancing back to exchange a look with Barry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry tried not to smile, and he cleared his throat in hopes that the sound would pull H.R.’s attention and distract him from the shade being thrown his way. “Okay, we’ll do that, then,” he said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Serious face, Barry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry picked up the brush again, and when he lifted it to start on Cisco’s hair, he quickly became aware of how close H.R. was standing to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry flicked his eyes back and forth awkwardly. “Could you…could you give me a little space?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. nodded repeatedly. “Right, right, right. Space,” he babbled, stepping away from Barry. “The final frontier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Barry murmured, and he began again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry worked the brush through the unmatted ends of Cisco’s hair, picking a slightly higher starting point every few strokes. The brush snagged several times, and now and then Cisco would flinch and lean in the direction Barry was brushing, which made it harder for him to get anything done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what exactly are you trying to accomplish right now?” Cisco asked after a few minutes, leaning back yet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m working on the hairs on the surface,” Barry said, repositioning his left hand on the back of Cisco's head to try and subtly move him back into position, “but the brush keeps getting caught on the knot underneath them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Cisco replied, not budging to make Barry's job any easier. “It feels like the strands you’re working on are more wound up in the underside than they seem, though. When you brush the hairs on the surface, I can feel it pulling on the back of my neck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what are you saying?” Barry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm saying—ah!” Cisco flinched and leaned further back as the brush got caught once again. “I'm saying I don't think you're gonna get much done focusing on the top layer when it's so deeply interlaced with the bottom layer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…okay,” said Barry, pausing his efforts. “But I can't really do the bottom layer first, because it's got all this other junk in the way of it. What do you suggest I do now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. gave a thoughtful grunt. “You could always cut some of it off,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we're not doing that,” said Barry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I have a hand mirror you could just hold up by my head,” Cisco suggested, “and I could go back to the big mirror in the bathroom and finish this myself. Y’know, save you the trouble?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pffft,” Barry responded dismissively. “That’s way too much work. All it would do is make your arms tired. It’d take longer, too. It’s no trouble, really, it’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to try fixing it?” H.R. asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Barry and Cisco said in unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. spread his hands in concession. “Alright,” he said. “But if you can't start with the top layer and you can't start with the bottom layer, then what are you gonna do? Start in the middle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry shrugged. “I mean…I could give it a shot? Work on the big knot first, get the rest straightened out afterwards?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it's fine,” said Cisco, waving his hand. “What you're doing right now makes the most sense. Forget I said anything, just keep doing what you've been doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry raised his eyebrows. “You sure?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Cisco said a bit brusquely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry was taken aback by the unexpected sharpness in his tone. Was Cisco mad at him for something?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco apparently heard how he had come across, because in the next moment, he twisted around to look at Barry and repeated, more softly this time: “Yes.” Then he gave him a little reassuring grin and added, “You're doing fine. Just…brush gently, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry nodded. “Yeah, of course,” he agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” said Cisco, and he turned back around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry shrugged to himself as he set back to work. Cisco sure was protective of his hair. Not that he had anything to worry about; it was thick and strong and well nourished. A little brushing wasn't going to hurt anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco apparently did not share Barry's confidence, as his routine of wincing and leaning continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t help that the higher Barry brushed, the more stubborn the tangles became. After reaching a certain point, it was impossible to pull the brush through at all, as some of the strands he was trying to untangle were too deeply buried beneath the messiest spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Cisco was onto something about working on the bottom layer first after all, Barry thought. Though it would be hard to brush around the big knot in the middle. But maybe if he turned the brush around so the bristles were facing toward himself, and tried to work from the inside out…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry tried that, and he smiled when the brush pulled through—still catching along the way on smaller knots that he couldn’t see, but not getting completely stuck again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was starting to get somewhere, and he increased his brushing speed just a little bit in his enthusiasm to finally be making some progress. The only problem was that Cisco’s head kept dipping too far back for him to be able to pull the brush very far, so he had to prop him up with his free hand again to keep him in position. He could feel the smaller knots shrinking and the less intense tangles coming undone, and he was beginning to think he might have just made a breakthrough—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow. Ow. Oh, oh—</span>
  <em>
    <span>ow!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Barry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Barry stopped, his focus thrown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mind easing up on the violence a little?” Cisco said shortly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Violence?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Barry mouthed silently, confused. He wasn’t using any more force than a complicated tangle like this usually warranted. “Do you want me to get rid of this rat’s nest or not?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, but I’d also kinda like to not get scalped in the process, if you don’t mind,” said Cisco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry raised an eyebrow. “Cisco, have you seen this thing? It’s not gonna come out without a little…” he waved his hand, trying to think of the right word. “Vigor,” he settled on at last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then, maybe you should give it a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> vigor, instead of trying to start a chainsaw with my hair,” Cisco said with a little more bite in his voice. “I thought you said you were good at this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am!” Barry insisted, growing defensive. “Iris never complained!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is her head made of, iron?!” Cisco retorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry rolled his eyes and started again. It wasn’t like he was going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> do any damage to Cisco’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet Cisco continued to flinch every time he started to make a little progress. If Barry didn’t know any better, he would think he was purposefully hampering his ability to get anything done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This would be a lot easier if you’d quit squirming,” he said at one point, his patience waning. “I’m just fixing your hair, not giving you a lobotomy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco muttered something in Spanish, and for once Barry thought it was probably a good thing he was monolingual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry elected to ignore his tone, one which was usually reserved for a Wells. It wouldn't do to sour movie night by getting in his feelings and picking a fight over something trivial. He just kept on brushing, trying his best to ignore Cisco’s near constant movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One particularly complex knot hidden deep beneath the surface caught in the brush, catching Barry off guard and tugging the fine hairs on the nape of Cisco's neck, and that seemed to be the last straw for Cisco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OH good lord,” Cisco said, standing up and turning to face Barry. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you pulling so hard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not pulling that hard!” Barry returned, a little perturbed at the accusation, and yet another interruption. “Why aren’t you letting me finish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>yanking</span>
  </em>
  <span> my hair in spots where I have really tender skin!” Cisco exclaimed, holding one hand protectively over the abused area. “It hurts!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry was about to fire something back at him, but his annoyance faded as he got a good look at Cisco’s face and realized that he wasn’t snapping at him out of anger, but out of distress. All this time, Barry had thought that he was just being fussy or overdramatic, but it was clear now that his reaction wasn’t an exaggeration. Apparently, Iris really </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a tougher scalp than Cisco—or a higher pain threshold, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Barry said, dropping his defenses at once, and feeling more than a little guilty. “I didn’t realize you were that sensitive back there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco made no move to sit back down, but the sincerity in Barry’s voice seemed to placate him a little. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell you,” he said simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know, but I thought—” Barry started, but he cut himself off and changed tracks. “No, you’re right,” he conceded, nodding his head. “I should have listened to you. I'm sorry. I promise I'll ease up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Cisco did not look reassured. “That's what you said last time,” he said, staying firmly planted in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, grappling to find the words to explain his line of thinking. “Yes, but that was before I knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you told me to brush gently,” he said at last. “I just thought you were worried about me damaging your hair. If I had known I was hurting you, I would've been </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> more careful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The apprehension gradually began to fade from Cisco’s face as he took in Barry’s words, and he eventually lowered his hand. “That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a valid misinterpretation,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what do you say?” Barry asked. “Can we try this again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment’s hesitation, Cisco gave Barry a little nod of his head, and then he slowly moved to sit back down beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just be </span>
  <em>
    <span>careful</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Cisco said insistently when they were properly in position again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>super </span>
  </em>
  <span>careful,” Barry promised. “You won’t feel a thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna hold you to that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so Barry started brushing again, moving more slowly and taking special care not to pull any part of Cisco’s hair too hard. Everything went smoothly for a little while, but he hadn't been at it for long when the same knot from before got caught on the brush again, and Cisco felt it before Barry could course correct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry!” Barry exclaimed. “I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying to be gentle that time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we have two very different definitions of what that means,” Cisco moaned, rubbing the spot that had just been tugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry let out a sigh. He didn't want to keep hurting Cisco, but he was at a loss for a way to untangle his hair without pulling on sensitive skin. “Well, what do you usually do to fix this?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have anything I usually do, because it never </span>
  <em>
    <span>gets</span>
  </em>
  <span> this bad,” said Cisco. “This is just some weird…freak…</span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Did Iris ever have to deal with anything on this level?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what did you do then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we cut it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A high-pitched yelp of panic was Cisco’s only response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to cut </span>
  <em>
    <span>yours</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Barry said emphatically. “Chill out, okay? We’ll figure this out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just throw out phrases like ‘we cut it’ and expect me not to react when you’re the one at the wheel here!” Cisco pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry gave him a miffed look. “Dude, come on,” he said. “A little trust in your best friend wouldn’t kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting less and less sure about that the longer this goes on,” said Cisco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. raised a drumstick. “I have an idea!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Cisco.                         </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t even heard it yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not taking hair advice from a man with a crew cut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. tilted his head thoughtfully. “Fair point,” he said. “But I’m not giving you hair advice from a man with a crew cut, I’m suggesting you consult someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>else</span>
  </em>
  <span>—someone with hair more like yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. grinned, a little smug at having successfully gotten Cisco to ask to hear his idea, then he turned to Barry. “You said Iris has gotten her hair tangled before,” he said. Turning back to Cisco, he added, “And Caitlin also has long, voluminous waves, so she is probably no stranger to the occasional rat’s nest, either, right? Soooo, why don’t you call one of them and have them help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a beat of silence as Cisco stared at H.R. as though he was reevaluating everything he had ever known about life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Cisco said finally, much to H.R.’s delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry deflated a little. “What? No, I can do this!” He didn’t want to give up now; he wanted to help his friend, not admit defeat and let someone else swoop in and do it for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barry, you’ve made valiant effort,” Cisco said, giving Barry’s arm a reassuring pat and squeeze, “but I think this is a job for the experts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just give me a few more minutes,” said Barry. “It’s just a little…big, huge knot. I’m sure I can figure this out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco groaned. “Oh, of all times for you to develop a male fix-it complex, it would have to be when my scalp is on the line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. nodded in agreement, twirling a drumstick absentmindedly. “Yeah, come on, B.A., don’t be a hero.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry and Cisco both slowly turned their heads toward H.R. at the exact same time, but the irony of his words appeared to be lost on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m calling Caitlin,” Cisco said decisively after a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I got this!” Barry insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Barry</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Cisco said, warily eyeing him like he might violently yank his hair at any moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Cisco could argue any further, Barry took a deep breath and channeled the speed force in his system. Cisco, H.R., and H.R.’s drumstick all froze in place, and Barry turned to the unsightly knot once more. He could get this mess untangled, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could; he just needed to be able to take his time figuring it out. And, ironically, the best way to slow the process down was to speed it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that the rest of the world was moving at a different pace, Barry could work without being distracted, and he tackled the impossibly large mat again, picking up where he had left off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the absence of Cisco’s and H.R.’s interjections, getting it untangled wasn’t any easier now than it had been before—in fact, somehow it seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> difficult now, knowing that he had no one to brainstorm with when he reached a trouble spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what felt like several minutes, the biggest knot was getting smaller, but the surrounding area was getting messier, as he seemed to be just loosening the knot rather than actually getting anything disentangled—and either he was losing it, or making the big knot looser was making the smaller knots tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t even have it up in the towel that long,” Barry muttered to himself as he worked. “Why is it—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>brush</span>
  </em>
  <span> “acting like it—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>brush</span>
  </em>
  <span> “got caught in a—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>brush</span>
  </em>
  <span> “fan—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>brush</span>
  </em>
  <span> “that someone left running all—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>brush—snag</span>
  </em>
  <span> “night?!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>TUG</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry gasped and abruptly stopped what he was doing. He had gotten so frustrated with the matted mess that he had momentarily forgotten that Cisco was attached to the other end, and pulled harder than he had meant to.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…Well, hopefully it was too fast for Cisco to feel it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, buddy,” Barry said softly, giving the side of Cisco’s head a light pat and making a mental note not to let moving at superspeed make him forget to handle him gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he sighed. He was beginning to think that continuing on his own was a mistake, as he was clearly in over his head here. But as discouraging as that thought was, it only increased his urgency to get it done himself. If he stopped now and let Cisco see the unruly state that his hair was in, it would just go to prove that Barry had not only failed to help him, but he had made matters worse as well. Then Cisco would know that he had made a mistake in asking for his help instead of just going to someone else to begin with. Barry </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fix this, and he couldn’t stop until he had either finished, or at least made some serious, visible progress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting the brush down, Barry zoomed around Cisco’s apartment in search of anything else that might help. He returned to the living room a moment later with a comb and another hairbrush, this one with finer bristles. He wasn’t sure what difference switching tools would make, but it was worth a shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his jaw set and his eyes flashing as he caught his second wind and a restored motivation to continue, Barry set back to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One very long quarter of a second of combing, pulling, finger-raking, cursing, and brushing later, Barry finally stepped back and took an appraising look at Cisco’s hair, untangled at last, but sticking up in several places (Barry realized it must be the static electricity from his lightning in such close proximity to it that had caused that). At any rate, the Gordian knot had been vanquished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the first brush through one more time for good measure, and when it didn’t encounter any more complications, he returned Cisco’s hair implements to their proper places, and returned to the living room, stopping in front of Cisco and moving at normal speed again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco’s hair blew a little in the breeze caused by the sudden motion, and he involuntarily twitched as his nerves tried to process several micro-sensations at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” said Barry with a smile of satisfaction. “All done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco drew back a little. “What did you do?” he asked nervously, reaching up to pat the back of his hair as though afraid to find it might not all be there. After running his fingers through it and finding nothing amiss, he picked up his phone and opened his front-facing camera to see how it looked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoosh! </span>
  </em>
  <span>later and Cisco found himself looking at a selfie of Barry gesturing dramatically at the back of his head, a trail of lightning behind him. His eyebrows rose when he saw that everything was finally back to normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told you I’d take care of it,” said Barry. “I just needed a little more time. Or, well, I guess </span>
  <em>
    <span>less</span>
  </em>
  <span> time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” said Cisco, putting his phone away and looking impressed. “We should have just done that in the first place.” He gave Barry a smile. “Nice work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry gave a dutiful nod. “Of course,” he said simply, as though spending what felt like half an hour struggling with a damp ball of hair and yelling obscenities at it while taking care not to bruise his best friend’s head was all in a day’s work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now we can finally get on to our movie,” said Cisco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” H.R. exclaimed giddily. “And the pizza! B.A., you bring them out of the kitchen, while I’ll pop the DVD in!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. started off in the direction of Cisco’s movie collection, and Barry nodded and started for the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, he could hear Cisco move to follow H.R.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Cisco said. “Before you do that—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thwack!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>OW!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry whirled around at once, alarmed by the sudden exclamation. He was immediately met with the sight of H.R.—now facing Cisco—standing frozen in shock, and a slightly stooped over Cisco cupping both hands over his right eye, while one of H.R.’s drumsticks clattered to the floor by his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Barry’s turn to wince as he deduced what must have happened, and he supersped to Cisco’s side, setting a hand on his shoulder as he arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Barry asked, giving him a concerned once-over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Cisco didn’t show any sign that he had heard him. Then after a moment, he slowly lifted his head again, lowering his hands from his face and blinking repeatedly. His eyes were watering lightly, but Barry was relieved to see that the one he had been covering was unharmed. The skin next to it, however, was starting to turn red. Taking slow, measured breaths, Cisco gave Barry a stiff nod in answer to his question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Barry could say anything else, Cisco slowly bent down to pick up the fallen drumstick, his movements deliberate and rigid. He then straightened back up and just held the drumstick for a moment, looking very much like he was projecting his consciousness into a different plane of existence and hurling it right back at H.R. (and given his particular set of powers, maybe he was). But he simply handed it back without force or comment; just an exasperated groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. accepted the drumstick, looking at Cisco apologetically. “I’m—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco held up a hand dismissively. “You know what?” he said. “It’s fine. It’s fine, let’s just get the movie started before one of you kills me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. nodded his head. “Right, right,” he said. “The movie, that’s—yes, we should start the movie.” He paused for just a moment, then he asked, “What was it you were trying to tell me to wait for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco motioned toward the movie case. “I put my Vibe suit in there this morning,” he explained, “so I was just going to warn you not to open it too fast if you don’t want a pile of leather and scissors and needles falling on top of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Uh, yeah, about that…” he drawled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco turned slowly toward Barry, visibly bracing himself for he-didn’t-even-know-what yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…kiiiiiiinda already took it out and put it back in its box,” Barry said guiltily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look Cisco gave Barry was about what Barry would expect from someone who had just been informed that his getting hit in the face with a projectile drumstick had been for nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry,” said Barry. “I didn’t think to tell you before because I didn’t know that—well,” he gestured at H.R.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. began gesturing as well. “Yeah, he didn’t know that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco just lowered his face into his palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. continued to gesture pointlessly, trying to look helpful, then ceased when he realized that neither of his roommates was paying attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry shifted back and forth on his feet awkwardly, wanting to make it up to Cisco somehow, but not knowing how to start. “I’m sorry,” he said again, more softly this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Expelling a deep sigh, Cisco dropped his hand and looked up again. He looked a little weary, but his exasperation from a moment ago was gone. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said patiently, and Barry could see that he meant it. “I do wish you would have told me, y’know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> I became H.R.’s personal crash cymbal, but…I know you couldn’t have seen that coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corners of Cisco’s eyes started to lift, not quite smiling, but serene, letting the moment go and moving on to the next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want something for your eye?” Barry offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” H.R. chimed in. “Yeah, do you want me to get you an ice pack or some frozen—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco shook his head. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Noooo</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he drawled, his earlier wariness returning. “Thank you, I think I’ve had all the help I can take for one day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry’s heart sank. He tried not to take it personally, but it was hard not to when all of his attempts to help, it seemed, just ended up doing more damage. He had never meant to make such a nuisance of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeming to sense the shift in Barry’s mood, Cisco looked up to meet Barry’s eyes, and his expression softened. “Hey,” he said, a note of concern in his voice. “Don’t sweat it. I know you have good intentions.” Glancing at H.R., he added a little reluctantly, “Both of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R. grinned and gave a little self-satisfied flourish. “The road to hell isn’t gonna pave itself,” he said cheerily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco looked like he had a clever remark he wanted to quip back at him, but he bit his lip and kept it to himself. “Can we just have this movie night now?” he asked when the temptation had passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YES!” H.R. cheered. “Let’s start the movie and start the pizza!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry turned to Cisco wearing a look of puzzlement as H.R. made his way over to the movie case once again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Start the pizza?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he mouthed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco just shrugged and shook his head, smiling a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, the three of them were settled on the couch, a mountain range of pizza boxes stacked on the coffee table in front of them, but not so high that it obscured their view of the TV screen as the movie played.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True to Cisco’s word, this movie was shaping up to be better than any of its predecessors, and it was easy for Barry to see why it was his favorite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but be a little distracted, though, feeling like he had failed on some level. He tried to push the feeling down and just enjoy the movie and the pizza—which was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, almost Keystone City good—but even when he was laughing out loud at Inspector Clouseau’s antics, it still persisted; a little nagging at the back of his mind, telling him that there was something he’d screwed up that he needed to fix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Inspector Dreyfus got injured for the umpteenth time, H.R. nudged Cisco and said, “You tonight,” and Cisco just rolled his eyes with a good-natured smile and shake of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry did not find the situation as amusing, and he turned to inconspicuously check on Cisco’s eye, as he had already done several times throughout the movie. Fortunately, the redness had faded by now, and there didn’t appear to be any bruising.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry frowned thoughtfully as he helped himself to his nineteenth slice of pizza, keeping his eyes on Cisco. Maybe he was worrying over nothing. Cisco had said that he wasn’t upset with him, and there had been no real harm done—nothing lasting, anyway—and Cisco didn’t appear to feel as though their movie night had been ruined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a matter of fact, Barry realized in surprise the longer that he looked, taking in the wide smile on Cisco’s face and the slight squint to his eyes, this was the lightest he had seen him in quite some time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H.R., meanwhile, was staring longingly at the last slice of Hawaiian pizza in the box in Cisco’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without taking his eyes off the screen, Cisco handed the box to H.R., causing the latter to light up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight brought a warmth to Barry’s chest, and he found himself smiling as well. He had missed seeing Cisco like this, so relaxed and unburdened. He used to be so bright and energetic, and while his old vivacity wasn’t gone completely and his sense of humor was still intact, he was a lot more withdrawn than he used to be. He had gotten so quiet since Flashpoint—since losing Dante—and many times, Barry had caught him slipping into a reflective daze, his eyes misty and faraway. And it was hard for Barry, watching his best friend suffer in silence and knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it—nothing that wouldn’t result in catastrophe, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry’s eyes traveled to Cisco’s hair, which was completely dried by now and sporting a healthy gleam in the lamplight, and he absentmindedly reached out to touch it, dragging his fingers through the area that had been so badly tangled earlier. In retrospect, maybe it had been silly to get so insistent about being the one to get it straightened out. But Cisco had asked him for his help, and that had relieved some of the feeling of uselessness that had plagued Barry these past few months. He couldn’t restore things to the way they were, or do anything to take away the pain he had caused; but if he could fix </span>
  <em>
    <span>one thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Cisco, even something relatively insignificant, then maybe he could deserve the loyalty that Cisco still carried for him. And if he couldn’t—well, what was the point of being a superhero if he couldn’t even help the people closest to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had succeeded tonight, though. And he had done a good job, too, he thought as he twirled a tangle-free lock around his fingers, marveling at how soft and smooth it felt now that it was all dry and brushed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco turned to look at Barry with a slightly amused glimmer in his eyes, his expression the physical embodiment of an interrobang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry smiled back sheepishly as he realized that from Cisco’s perspective, this probably seemed a little weird. “Your hair’s just really soft,” he said simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco just bounced his eyebrows understandingly, and he turned his attention back to the TV, letting Barry resume without pressing for any further explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry turned back to the TV, too, shaking his train of thought and focusing again on the movie, lest he miss any good slapstick nonsense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, by the way,” Cisco murmured after a moment, taking Barry by surprise. “I know I kinda freaked out on you earlier, and I might not always be the best at showing it, but I really do appreciate all your help. With my hair, the kitchen, ordering the pizza—even putting my suit away. You didn’t have to do all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was, the classic Cisco-in-hosting-mode line again. Only this time, it reached Barry’s ears differently. Most of the time he just heard it as polite and compulsory drivel—something to tune out as he proceeded to help out, anyway. On occasion, it stuck a little more in his mind, and he wondered if perhaps he was inadvertently overstepping, and if Cisco would rather he just stop helping altogether, and let him do everything on his own. It had never occurred to him before that maybe Cisco just kept repeating it as a genuine expression of gratitude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Barry thought about it, all of Cisco’s stories about sharing a room with Dante growing up, and then with “Slack-Off Sebastian” in college did suggest that Cisco had only ever had slobby and inconsiderate roommates before Barry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry swallowed, fighting an unexpected upsurge of emotion. All night, he had been trying to be Cisco’s hero, and now he realized that he had been aiming too high. Cisco really didn’t care that Barry couldn’t fix all of his problems or be the perfect roommate; but he still noticed that he tried his best, and that in itself was enough for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, in all his efforts to make himself useful, Barry had forgotten that Cisco didn’t love him because he was a hero; he loved him because he was his friend. And as he took in the contented look on Cisco’s face now as he sat sandwiched between his roommates, full on pizza and one Clouseau-ism away from bursting into a fit of laughter as Barry played idly with his hair, he realized that this was all Cisco had needed all along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling a little overwhelmed, Barry took a moment to get a handle on his composure before he responded, not wanting to spoil the mood by getting overly sentimental. “Well,” he said calmly when he was ready, feigning cockiness, “it’s a tough job, but, y’know…someone had to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cisco snorted. “Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said dryly, half-teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry glanced at Cisco again, and he reached around him to give his shoulder a squeeze. “You’re welcome, bud,” he said, smiling warmly as Cisco instinctively let his head fall back against his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know what I’d do without you, either.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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